


Punishment Before The Crime

by Helis_von_Askir



Category: Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior, Highlander - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 01:04:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18560776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helis_von_Askir/pseuds/Helis_von_Askir
Summary: Cassandra has gone off the deep end.





	Punishment Before The Crime

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't owe anything, this is just for everyone's enjoyment.  
> I always thought the BAU would have a field day with Immortals.

**Punishment before the crime**

_Do you see him? Where is he? There he is! Can you see the darkness in him? The evil? He hides it well, but it is there and you are the only one who can see it. The only one who can stop him. Don’t be afraid, he won’t see you coming. You can rid the world of his evil in one stroke. Don’t miss, don’t hesitate, strike!_

 

Mick was walking down the street towards his flat. It had been a long week, but also a good one. At least what passed in the BAU as a good one. They had captured they unsub only hours before, and even had been able to save his latest victim. The girl would need therapy for a very long time to come, but at least she was alive, unlike the other three girls he had killed. The rest of the evening they spent doing paperwork, they hadn’t nearly as much of it as the normal BAU teams, but it was still more than enough. God, how Mick hated paperwork. It really made him want to shoot someone, preferable the person who had invented bureaucracy.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly missed the sudden footsteps behind him. They were hurried, not quite running, but not a normal walk either. Mick didn’t think any of it. It was late, and whoever it was probably only wanted to get home faster.

That was when he heard something metallic being raised behind him. He didn’t know how he knew it, just that he did. Mick spun around and raised his left arm to block whatever it was that was coming towards him. As it turned out it was a red-headed woman with a machete in her hands. The blade bit into Mick’s arm and cut deep. Mick immediately staggered back to get some room to maneuver. His arm hurt like hell but he forced himself to ignore the pain and get his gun out. But before he could get his good hand on it the woman came at him again, swinging wide with the blade.

“Bloody hell!” Mick cursed under his breath and blocked the blade again before following with a kick, making the woman stagger backwards. Mick kept his injured arm close to his body while observing his attacker carefully, waiting for the sign of the next attack.

“Hey, love, whatever it is, why don’t we talk about it?” Mick asked the woman hoping to calm her down, but it was like she hadn’t heard him, she simply swung the machete again with a loud, mad cry. Mick quickly sidestepped and managed to get behind her. A few fast, well placed punches and kicks later the woman lay on the ground. The woman gave a snarl and ran away. Mick had to lean against the wall to keep upright, he was breathing heavily and when he looked down to inspect the wound on his arm, the entire sleeve was covered in blood. Peeling the blood-soaked fabric back he saw that the cut on his arm ran from his elbow down to his wrist, he could even see some of his bones in his arm. No wonder he suddenly felt light-headed, he was losing quite a lot more blood than was healthy. “Okay, not good.” He panted and fumbled for his cell. He sank to the ground with the wall at his back while he waited for the 911 operator to pick up.

 

Flashing hid FBI credentials at the security guard, Sam Cooper hurriedly made his way through the ER. He had gotten a call from the police at the office not half an hour ago that his agent Mick Rawson had been attacked and brought here to have his injuries tended to. Considering how much Mick hated doctors and hospitals it had to be a lot more than a scratch.

Finally he saw the younger man lying on one of the beds. His eyes were closed but he seemed to be breathing under his own power, which was always a good sign, but he looked horribly pale.

“Mick!” he called out and stepped to the bed. The Brit opened his eyes and looked around, confused for a moment. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Coop. They just put in some stitches and I’m as good as new,” Mick replied. He looked tired and Sam was glad that he was already lying down, otherwise he was sure Mick would have fallen over.

“I’m afraid it will be more than a few stitches, Agent Rawson. You are lucky that you don’t need surgery. You could just as easily have lost the arm.” A middle-aged man in medical scrubs said and hooked Mick up to a blood infusion. He then turned his attention to Mick’s left arm that was heavily bandaged. Carefully the doctor undid the bindings and inspected the wound. Sam had to fight down a feeling of nausea. He could actually see down to the bone in Mick’s arm.

“Damn it! Who did this, Mick?” Sam asked when he was sure he wouldn’t shout at the younger man for downplaying something like that.

“I don’t know, mate. I never met the woman before, at least not that I can remember. I was just on my way home when she came after me with a bloody machete. I tried to talk her down but she wasn’t in the listening mood. I managed to know the blade away and call 911. The police are looking for her right now.” Mick explained, while the doctor numbed the arm and started stitching him up.

“Yeah, they told me.” Coop said, he tried not to look at the wound gaping open and closed while the doctor worked on it. “I call Prophet, he’ll stay with you while I head down to the scene.”

Mick rolled his eyes. “I don’t need a babysitter, Coop.”

“I’m not asking, Mick. He will take you home when they release you and you will stay there until I say otherwise, are we clear?” Sam asked, his tone not breaking an argument. “And don’t try to sneak out.”

“Yeah, sure, mate,” Mick mumbled not sounding very convincing.

“If he doesn’t behave, Doctor, just knock him out.” Sam told the physician, who simply nodded to indicate that he had heard him, but kept focused on closing the wound.

 

It took Coop ten minutes to get to the precinct. Detective Wilder was already waiting for him at the pull pen. “We pulled some video footage from a nearby shop. And we found a witness. But he also looks kind of high. He’s in there.” The big African American said and led Sam to the one-way mirror.

The man on the other side was white, rather tall, fit and as Wilder had said, he looked high. There was a vacant expression in his eyes that told the profiler that he wasn’t a hundred percent down on earth. “Are you going to test his blood?” Sam asked the detective while he studied the other man.

“Tubes are on the way to the lab as we speak.” Wilder confirmed.

“Good. Now let’s see what we have here.” Sam opened the door to the interrogation room and stepped in. It took the other man several seconds to react to his entrance. Calmly Coop sat down opposite him and folded his hands on the table. “My name is Sam Cooper. Can you tell me your name? Do you know why you are here?” he asked when he finally caught the man’s eyes.

“Oscar, Oscar Monroe,” came the reply. He didn’t sound high now, more like he had just wakened from a dream.

“Good, Oscar. Do you know why you are here?” Coop asked again.

“There was this broad who tried to kill some dude. She was so beautiful, like an avenging angel.” Monroe said.

“Can you describe the woman for me, Oscar? What did she look like?” Sam asked quickly. He needed to keep the man focused. He was a lousy witness to begin with, but he had to make the best of it.

A dreamlike expr3ession came over Monroe’s face. “So beautiful,” he breathed. “Hair like fire and eyes so deep, like the ocean. She’s an angel.”

Cooper sighed. He knew Monroe wouldn’t say anything useful, at least not for now, he would try again later, once the tox-screen was back. Without saying another word he stood up and left the room. Wilder had watched everything from outside.

“Mr. Monroe seems a bit delusional to me, Agent Cooper.” He stated.

“I’m not so sure about that yet, Detective. I think that this mysterious woman is very real. Agent Rawson said she was red-headed too. Let’s wait a few hours, maybe then he can give us a description of her.” Sam said and took out his phone. He dialed and waited for the other end to pick up. “Penelope? It’s Coop. I’m sorry for calling so late but I need you to look at some footage.”

 

Thirty minutes after Coop had left, Jon showed up in the ER, he took one look at Mick’s arm and shook his head. “You can’t help yourself but get into trouble every time my back is turned, can you?” he stated.

“Hey, that wasn’t my fault. I was minding my own business when that woman decided to go mental on me. I mean, where the hell did she get her hand on a machete in the first place?” Mick replied. He could understand if someone tried to shoot him, hell even a knife would have made more sense to him than a machete. Maybe she had seen too many bad movies.

“I’m sure Coop is asking that question right now, man.” Jon said. “When can I take him home?” he then asked the doctor.

The doctor then replaced the blood infusion with a new one. “Once that one is done you can take Agent Rawson home, though I would prefer that he stayed here for another day or two.”

“Not going to happen!” Mick protested adamantly. He could rest better at home anyway, and he hated being in hospitals on a principal, especially when he was the one who had gotten injured.

“If you insist, but he has to rest for at least two days, give him lots of fluids, maybe some soup, nothing too heavy and no alcohol.” The doctor instructed both men. “I will see you again next week for a check-up, don’t make me regret this.”

Mick rolled his eyes, he would play nice for tonight, but tomorrow he would convince Prophet to take him to the office. Coop wouldn’t be too happy, but Mick wanted to know to know why that woman had attacked him immediately and not wait until someone remembered to call him.

“Don’t worry, Doc, we’ll make sure he follows your instructions.” Prophet promised.

While the infusions was running into Mick’s good arm, Jon took care of the formalities to get him released. And hour later they were on their way back to Mick’s flat. His arm still hurt like hell, but thanks to a sedative the doctor had administered before he left Mick was half asleep when they arrived.

“Come on, man,” Jon said and shook the younger man’s shoulder. “I’m not going to carry your upstairs.”

Mick yawned and got out of the car. “Can’t get any decent service in this country,” he muttered under his breath, but lout enough for Jon to hear.

Prophet just shook his head and laughed. “Guess that means you’re going to be alright.” He said and helped Mick up into his apartment. It was remarkable clean for a bachelor flat. “Do you have a maid?”

“No,” Mick replied half annoyed. “I do clean up after myself now and then, you know.” He headed straight into his bedroom. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m catching some shut-eye. You can let yourself out.”

“Oh, no. Coop ordered me to stay here and keep an eye on you. I’ll take the couch.” Jon told him.

“Whatever,” Mick mumbled and fell into his bed, only taking off his shoes. “Blankets are in the cupboard next to the door.” Then he was asleep.

Jon shook his head again and put the blankets over him and the younger man and went back into the living room to make his own bed. He had to be in the office in a few hours and it looked like he would need all the rest he could get, because what Coop had told him about the attack had sounded pretty weird.

 

Standing motionless over the bodies Cassandra observed her work. The woman laid in a heap over her son, trying to protect her child even in death. She had begged for her son’s life, like a good mother should. Of course, it had not stopped her form doing what had to be done. If there had been a way to spare the child she would have, but he had inherited his mother’s gift and Cassandra couldn’t allow either one to live and develop it to full strength. She would not risk them becoming like Kantos. She would not repeat the mistakes from the past. Calmly Cassandra sheeted her sword in the folds of her coat, she would clean it later, when she was back in her house, where she could rest. She hated this kind of work, but it was her duty to end the lives of these gifted as she was and she would not shy from it. No one escaped her.

Except maybe Mick Rawson. He was strong, oh, so very strong, physically and mentally. If he were trained in the gift, he would be able to hold half the world in this thrall. She couldn’t risk him to live. Aside from his natural strength, he was a federal agent. And though the FBI and the police would take his death personally and would stop at nothing to find his killer. A danger she was willing to take. She had to do it. She had managed to severely wound him, he should be dead by now, bled out on the street.

Cassandra left the house behind her and walked calmly down the street. Running would draw attention and she still had so much to do. There was a it me when the gift had been truly rare, but with over seven billion people now living on this planet, a rise in the numbers was to be expected, but she had been surprised at how many there actually were. She had started her work in France, then gone on to Spain, Italy, Germany and Great Britain. Of course, she hadn’t gotten all, but she had made a start and after all, she had time, besides too many deaths in one country would draw attention sooner or later, and that had to be avoided at all costs. No one would stop her! But to throw anyone who had picked up her trail off she had left Europe for now and come to the States. There were so many that needed to be stopped. And then there were South-America, Africa, Asia and Australia to scourge. A daunting task, to be sure. But as confusing as her visions always were, she knew that she could not let her latest vision become true. She would not.

Back in her own house she hung up her coat and started to clean her sword. She had heard that most found the task to be calming, meditative even, but to her it was simply annoying and time consuming. As was her custom she turned on the TV, she didn’t watch but she hated the quiet and preferred to have some background noise to dispel it. Cassandra was giving her weapon a last polish when a news report caught her attention. It was about the attack on the federal agent earlier tonight. They didn’t mention Rawson’s name she knew it was him. Her elation came to a sudden end when the reporter told his audience that the agent in question had been injured, but was alive and had already been discharged from the hospital.

With an outraged cry Cassandra buried her sword in the TV screen. Impossible! She had had everything planned out. So what had happened? Cassandra forced herself to calm down. Anger would not help her in this situation. Obviously Rawson was even better than she had expected, or he had more luck than the Irish, even if he was a Welshman. The news report had said he had been discharged. It was likely that he had returned to his home, Cassandra was sure of it. She knew the arrogance of soldiers. Everything would be so much easier if she could use her Voice on these people, but as they had the gift too, they were immune to it. But Rawson lived in an apartment house, and there were others living there that would not be. With a smile breaking out over her face, she picked up the phone. So simple, she should have thought of it before.

 

Jon woke with a start. He was lying on the couch, keeping his breathing even and listening. Something had woken him, he had learned to sleep light in prison, something he was thankful for in situations like this. A quick glance towards the bedroom showed him that Mick was still out cold, so it had to be something else. Then he heard it, someone was at the front door, trying to get in, and by the sound of it, that someone had a key. Not good. Mick didn’t hand out keys to his flat, which left two options: first someone managed to make a copy of Mick’s without him noticing, or second, the super was using his to get in. And considering the hour neither possibility was appealing to Jon.

As soundlessly as possible, he got up from the couch and drew his gun. The illumination from the streetlamps was enough to orient himself in the flat and he slid to the door, waiting for it to open, gun at the ready. He didn’t have to wait long, with a last click the door opened and a man stepped through. Jon saw that he had a large kitchen knife in on hand and a key in the other. Before the intruder could take another step, Prophet grabbed the hand with the knife and threw the man against the wall. With a startled cry the man let the knife and key fall from his hands.

“No, he has to die! Don’t you understand? He has to die!” the man shouted repeatedly. He bucked and kicked, desperate to get free, but Jon’s hold was secure.

“FBI, you are under arrest for breaking and entering and attempted murder.” Jon said as he struggled to cuff the man. Once that was done he dumped the man, who seemed to be in his thirties, white and a bit overweight, unceremoniously on the couch. Prophet was surprised that Mick had slept through all the noise, seemed they had given him the good drugs back at the hospital. The intruder sat now motionlessly on the couch, panting as if he had just finished a hundred yards sprint. Jon grabbed his cell and dialed Coop’s number, keeping an eye and his gun on the other man. “Coop, it’s me. You won’t believe what just happened.”

 

When Beth and Gina arrived in the office in the wee hours of the morning Coop was already there going through a police report and pacing up and down the room

“What’s the new case?” Beth asked. She was used to get call at all hours but something had been different in Coop’s voice when he had called her about this one.

“And where are Prophet on Mick?” Gina wanted to know. The three of them were the only ones in yet.

“They’ll be here in a few minutes,” Coop replied absentmindedly. “They are tying it up with the police.”

Beth and Gina threw each other confused looks, why were the two already at the crime scene? But Sam didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, so they would have to wait. Getting themselves a coffee they sat down at the conference table and by that time, Mick and Jon arrived.

“What the hell happened to you?” Gina asked when she saw Mick stumble in and onto the couch in the back of the office. Beth stared too, but Coop didn’t seem surprised. Mick looked like death warmed over. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the back rest.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but didn’t get up or open his eyes.

“No, he isn’t. The doctor gave him some pretty strong painkillers, that’s why he is such a sunshine at the moment.” Jon disagreed and took a water bottle out of the refrigerator and gave it to Mick. The young Brit looked annoyed at him and then grabbed the bottle, but didn’t open it.

“What?” Beth asked confused. “Could anyone of you please start at the beginning?”

“A few hours ago, around midnight, an unidentified woman attacked Mick on his way home with a machete,” Sam started to explain. “Mick was able to drive her off but got a bad cut on his arm, he was taken to the hospital and they fixed him up. I told Prophet to take him home and keep an eye on him, and I went to the station to talk to a witness.”

Jon picked up the narrative. “I took Mick to his flat, he went to bed and I crashed on the couch. An hour ago, the super of the building, Peter Sullivan, used his keys to get into the apartment armed with a steak knife and the intention of killing Mick. I was able to disarm him and arrested him.” Sam brought up the picture of Sullivan.

“Wait a second,” Gina raised her hand to stop them for going any further. “You’re telling us, that two completely unrelated people tried to kill Mick within a few hours of each other? We’re not believing in a coincidence here, are we?”

Sam shook his head. “No, the woman attacked without any provocation, as did Sullivan.”

“He only said that he got a phone call from a woman who told him to take a knife and kill Mick.” Prophet added.

“So, we’re assuming it was the mysterious woman who called him?” Beth said. “Dumped anyone lately, Mick?

“No, Mick muttered. “And for the record, I don’t date psychopaths.” With an obvious effort he sat up and opened the water bottle. “I don’t know what’s going on, guys, but I intent to find out.”

“And we will, Mick, but you have to take the backseat on this one.” Sam told him.

For a moment it looked like Mick wanted to argue the point, then he merely nodded and took a sip from the bottle. “Whatever you say, mate.”

 

The sun was setting over Washington DC when two figures made their way over the roofs of a block of residential buildings. They moved with grace and precision, as calm as taking a stroll in the park. When they arrived at their destination, the man used his lock-picks to open the door on the roof leading into the house. The woman led the way down into the third floor, looking for all the world as if she belonged here. Checking that the hallway was empty the man again used his lock-picks and opened the door to the apartment, both vanished inside.

“You know, I would have assumed that an FBI agent would have better protection on the door.” Methos said. He and his really old friend Tyrael, and that meant really, really old, put on latex gloves and started systematically to go through the flat of SSA Mick Raswon.

“He probably thinks that he has nothing worth stealing and as to threats against himself, well, he has a gun.” Tyrael replied. She headed into the bedroom and took a look around there. Rawson was a spartanic kind of guy, there was nothing fancy there. The most personal thing in the room were the pictures on one wall. Several showed Rawson with a younger woman, going by the resemblance Tyrael assumed her to be his little sister. The others were of Rawson in battle fatigues, surrounded by other soldiers. “Interesting.” She muttered and went back out to the living room where Methos was busy going through the agent’s computer. “He was a solder and has a sister. We should check if she is still alive.” She told the other Immortal.

“I’m pretty sure she is.” Methos replied. “He calls her nearly every day. He has a pretty high phone bill and only calls one number overseas. There is also not much personal stuff on his computer. He doesn’t even watch porn on the internet.”

“Man of my dreams.” Tyrael deadpanned and did a quick check of the kitchen.

“He is too young for you.” Methos smiled.

“Everyone is too young for me, except for you. And isn’t that just a sad statement?” Tyrael said and watched Methos power down the computer and stand up. “He was in the British Air Force, I recognize the uniform. Special Forces, if the look in his eyes is anything to go by.” She had seen that kind of look on too many people over the millennia, it never changed, whether they beat each other to pulp with wooden clubs or shot each other with modern guns.

“That would explain a few things.” Methos followed her outside and they left the way they had come. No one saw them and they had been careful not to disturb anything, so Rawson shouldn’t have any clue that they had been there.

“Cassandra kills over forty people back in Europe, no hesitation, but also no motive. If the Watchers hadn’t informed us of this, none of us would be the wiser. Then suddenly she jumps continents, again without any motive.” Tyrael shook her head when they were back in the car. Methos drove them to the latest _crime scene_ , a single woman and her son being found dead. “Why these people? What is bringing them to her attention?”

Methos shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe there is no reason, maybe she simply went insane. It has happened before.” And he was right, every Immortal over a thousand years had gone crazy at least once, it was inevitable. That Cassandra had lasted three thousand years without it was very unlikely, it was more probable that she had been able to withdraw from the world when it had happened before.

“Maybe,” Tyrael said but she didn’t sound convinced. “We need to get a look at Rawson’s service record, Air Force and FBI, maybe we find something there. And I would like to talk with him, he is the only one survive thus far.”

“And what are you planning on telling him?” Methos wanted to know. “Excuse me, Agent, but I’m hunting down a crazy woman who kills people all over the world for no apparent reason, and you just happen to be the first to survive. If that former Watcher hadn’t seen her attacking him we wouldn’t even know about him. I hope he keeps his mouth shut.”

“Not funny, Old Man.” Tyrael muttered. “I was not planning on telling him anything. I just want to get a feeling for him. Something must have made her choose him, something that made her choose all these people. We need to find out what that is, because let’s face it, we have been after her for over three weeks now and are no closer than at the beginning, she behaves too unpredictable. No, now she is bound to get impatient. She will go after our good agent again soon, despite the risk. All we have to do is keep an eye on him and we will find Cassandra, sooner or later.”

 

They had sat up shop in Tyrael’s home here in DC. It was in an upscale neighborhood, not quite a villa, but pretty close. She didn’t use if often, as she preferred to stay in Europe, but she had made arrangements that it was kept clean and ready for her. Something she did with all her houses and apartments and so on. It was kind of interesting that Methos was a lot like her in that regard, but living for over five thousand years led to certain habits that were hard to shake. Most people thought that because they were so old that they were like chameleons, changeable and unpredictable, but one only had to look back far enough and certain patterns started to emerge, and they had known each other for most of their long lives, lived in close proximity, over time the one had picked up habits from the other, it was simply human nature.

While Methos fixed them dinner, he was a mean cook when he could be bothered to actually get up to it, Tyrael sat down at her home office and started the slow and annoying process of hacking into various government databases. It used to be rather easy to do that, but ever since 9/11 the government agencies of this world had wised up and upgraded their firewalls. It made it harder to get in, but Tyrael could be patient and persistent when the situation required it. FBI and British Air Force were first on her list. They were lucky so far that the police in neither country had connected the dots and realized that someone was on a worldwide killing spree.

It times past, Tyrael wouldn’t care about an Immortal on a killer spree, someone stopped them always in the end, but in these _modern_ times it simply was too dangerous. Why there were still some of their kind trying it was beyond her. It was foolish and dangerous, especially since the Watchers found it so hard to stick to their own precious oath in recent years. There had been times when nothing would have made them do that, but modern ethnics and morals were what they were and they had to deal with that.

Which was why Methos had insisted that this whole situation were kept from Joe Dawson and in extension from Duncan MacLeod. The young Immortal would have just made matters more complicated. He would probably try to protect Rawson from Cassandra, and Tyrael had her doubts that that would have gone down well with the young mortal. He was old enough to take care of himself, as far as Tyrael was concerned. If he should die it would be unfortunate, but neither she nor Methos would jeopardize their chance of catching Cassandra in order to safe him or anyone else, whereas MacLeod would have made their safety his top priority. And saving Cassandra, as if she could be saved. So young and so naive. He would either grow up in the next century or so, or he would lose his head.

Methos brought their dinner into the room and both sat down at the table. While savoring the Old Man’s fine cuisine, Tyrael let her gaze travel over all the photos they had put up on one of the walls. Cassandra’s victims, in chronological order, with names, dates and anything the Watcher could provide in the time since her Watcher had sounded the alarm to the Tribunal. They were of all skin-colors, all religions, some old, most young, a dozen children. They simply was no pattern to be found. But something had to draw Cassandra to them. A vision? Possible. Tyrael was too old and experienced to not believe in all kinds of things. Or maybe she was overanalyzing it, maybe it was like Methos had suggested, maybe Cassandra had simply gone insane and there was no reason, no pattern.

 

“Finally,” Tyrael muttered. It was close to sunrise the next morning when she was finally in the FBI database. Methos had gone to bed hours ago, but at least one of them needed to stay awake at all times, as to not miss anything. Rawson’s file was impressive, even if most of it was a summary of his time in the British Air Force and heavily redacted.

Nonetheless it contained some very, very interesting things. It was not proof of anything per se, but it would explain Cassandra’s behavior. Checking out the lives of the other victims hadn’t shown anything of the kind, but  then they were not solders or federal agents. Tyrael went upstairs to wake Methos.

 

“The Gift? Are you sure? That’s damn rare, even today.” Methos said after listening to Tyrael’s theory.

“I know, but look at the file and tell me you don’t agree with me.” She challenged.

“No, I agree with you, at least on Rawson, but what about the others?” Methos stated. “Do you really think that Cassandra does this to prevent them from becoming like Kantos? Not one of them has any training, as far as I can tell. They can’t use the Voice.”

Tyrael shrugged her shoulders. “It’s just a theory, but the only one that makes even remotely sense to me, Methos. Besides, the Gift is more than just the Voice. Cassandra never bothered to look further than what Rebecca taught her. I tell you, they all had it, and that was why they had to die.”

It made sense in a twisted sort of way, Kantos’ betrayal, his abusing his power, had hurt Cassandra badly. She would go to great length to prevent such a thing from happening again. And if she was in an unstable phase of her life, killing these people would appear reasonable to her, hell, it would even be a mercy in her eyes.

“Okay, let’s say you’re right and that is the reason for Cassandra’s killing frenzy. She can’t hope to be able to the them all. I mean, how does she even find them?” Methos wanted to know.

“I don’t think she is being that rational. All that matters to her is stopping an evil from coming to pass. As for finding the, there are ways and if you bothered to learn more than the basics back in the day you would know that.” Tyrael explained.

Methos rolled his eyes, it was a long standing discussion between them. Tyrael had studied these things for most of her life, even when it was dangerous to do so, Methos on the other hand had only learned the bare minimum and then concentrated his efforts on other things, like mathematics and astronomy and the like. It simply didn’t hold the fascination for him than it did for Tyrael.

“So, you want to find future victims and hope that we get lucky?” Methos asked, changing the subject from his lack of training to the matter at hand.

Tyrael shook her head. “No, that would still leave too many possibilities. I still think our best bet is Rawson. He is the one that got away. Let’s keep an eye on him and I promise you, sooner or later Cassandra will show up.”

“Or she will lure him to her.” Methos added. “She likes to fight on her own term.”

 

It had been two days since that mad woman had tried to filet him and Mick was ready to go up the walls of the office. After the incident with Sullivan, Coop had insisted that he was never alone until they figured this out and as much as he liked his colleagues, the close proximity was starting to go on his nerves. At the moment everyone was out on some task except him and Gina, so he had a minute to himself, which he used to change the bandage to his arm, thankfully it was healing well, with no sign of infection.

“Oh, do you have to do that here?” Gina asked when she came in and saw the stitched wound on his arm.

“I have to change it regularly,” he replied. He knew right at the moment it did look rather like out of a horror movie, but in a few weeks only a scar would remain.

“Would it not be better to do that at the hospital?” Gina wanted to know, trying not to stare at it, but failing miserable. It was like a car crash, you just had to look.

“I know how to keep a wound clean, Gina, don’t worry.” Mick assured her and started to wrap up his arm again. He did have some practice with it, so for him it was no big deal, but it seemed a bad idea to mention that right now.

“If you say so,” she didn’t sound convinced but let it go. “If you need anything. I’m on the floor getting some work-out done.” She left after Mick gave her a nod.

Mick was then starting on some of his paperwork, all that he was allowed to do at the moment. What joy! He had barely made a dent in the pile when his cell rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but it was local. His curiosity raised he picked up.

“Hello!” he asked, but instead of an answer he heard only someone crying. “Hello? Can you hear me?” he asked again. But the sobbing continued, it sounded like a child to him. Then “She said she is going to hurt me if you don’t come.” A girl breathed into the phone.

“Who is saying that? Are you alright?” Mick asked alarmed.

But before the girl could answer a woman spoke up. “She is alright for now, Agent Rawson. That will change if you do not do exactly as I tell you.” The cold voice said.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Mick demanded to know angry.

“You, Agent Rawson,” Came the reply. “I want you, and if you want sweet little Heather here to see another day, you will come to me and you will come alone. Do not think of alerting your team, and do not take your gun with you.” The woman instructed.

“Okay, where and when?” Mick knew it was a bad idea to simply comply with this woman. He had the sneaking suspicion that it was the crazy one who had tried to slice him up. There was no guarantee that she would let the girl live, even if he did as she said, but he couldn’t take the risk. The woman gave him an address at the docks and half an hour to get there. That would be cutting it close.

 

Tyrael and Methos had been sitting in their cars for half the day, watching the Red Cell office in the hopes of catching sight of Cassandra, even if the chances for that were slim. Methos covered the front entrance and Tyreal the back, she could see the little parking lot.

“Crafty boy,” Tyrael muttered under her breath and grabbed her cell to call Methos. “He is getting out by the back door and he looks to be in a hurry. I think we can assume he received a message from Cassandra.” She reported quickly, while keeping an eye on the young FBI agent.

“Is he going for a car?” Methos wanted to know.

“Yes, black SUV, be ready to follow.” Tyrael told him.

When Rawson pulled out of the lot, Methos followed him three cars behind. Tyrael followed by a side street, ready to take over should Rawson discover the Old Man following him. But it seemed that he was sorely focused on getting to his destination as fast as possible.

“He is going to the docks.” Methos reported, he had his cell on speaker to keep Tyrael updated. No matter how often he bemoaned the fact that such modern devices were enslaving people more than they were helping them, he was glad that they allowed him to keep in contact with his friend right now. “Deserted and a lot of good hiding places. Cassandra is learning. We better be ready for anything.”

“Aren’t we always?” Tyrael asked only half in jest.

 

Coop, Beth and Prophet entered the building that served as their base of operation in DC to find Gina take it out on a sandbag. By the looks of it she had been at it for a while, but she stopped when she saw them come in.

“Hey, give the poor bag a break, will you?” Beth said and proceeded into the office space to drop off some files, Gina merely rolled her eyes.

“How is Mick doing? He giving you a hard time?” Coop wanted to know. He was always worried when one of his agents had gotten hurt, but with Mick, he saw the younger man as something of a little brother ever since they had met overseas years ago.

“He said he was fine, doing paperwork the last time I looked.” Gina explained and dried her face with a towel.

“Then where is he now?” Beth asked coming down the steps.

“What?” Gina looked confused.

“He’s not in there, did he leave to get something?” Beth indicated the empty office.

“No, as I said he was doing paperwork.” Gina replied. “But he was on the phone once, I think. I didn’t think any of it.” Gina said, angry with herself for not keeping a better eye on her friend.

“It’s not your fault, Gina. Mick can be stubborn when he wants to be,” Coop assured her. “Come one.”

They all filed into the conference room and Coop called Garcia. “Penelope, I need you to check Mick’s phone records. What were the calls he received today.” He told her as soon as the red-headed technician picked up.

“Give me a second,” Penelope replied and typed away. “Okay, he had one call today. It was from a pre-paid cell and lasted less than three minutes. That was not quite half an hour ago.”

“Triangulate his signal,” Prophet said from his seat. Neither of them liked the sound of it. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for the call, of course, but then, why did he not tell Gina that he had to leave or where he was going?

“Okay, why? Is he in trouble?” Garcia asked worried.

“We don’t know, but he left without telling anyone, Penelope. Please tell us his position.” Coop explained with forced calm. If the kid had gotten himself into trouble again, he wouldn’t let him out of his sight ever again.

“Alright, here he is. The signal comes from the docks, I’m sending the exact coordinates to your cell right now.” Garcia told them and everyone looked at their phones to confirm that they had gotten it.

“Thanks, Garcia,” Beth replied and then the team was on their way out.

 

Mick parked in front of the old warehouse and got out. It appeared to be deserted, but he didn’t take anything for granted, not after a crazy week like this. Before he stepped away from the car and into the warehouse he removed his gun from his holster and put it at the back of his jean where it was covered by his jacket, hopefully that would be enough to fool that woman who was waiting for him inside.

The door was unlocked, just as the woman had said, and old and rusty and far too loud for Mick’s liking as he entered. It was dark inside and his eyes needed a few seconds to adjust to it. A lot of old machinery was still standing around, allowing for a lot of hiding places. Mick sure didn’t like that, and he made his way farther in carefully. The woman hadn’t said where exactly eh was supposed to go, but he was pretty sure she already knew that he was here. She would have to be deaf not to have heard that door.

His fingers itched to get his gun out. Not drawing the weapon went against his every instinct and every procedure he had ever learned. But he couldn’t risk the girl’s live, she had nothing to do with this.

Mick didn’t know why the woman wanted him dead, but she was serious and he believed her threats. She would kill that child if he didn’t do what she wanted.

The wound on his arm throbbed with a dull pain, but he ignored it as best as he could.

“I’m here!” he called into the abandoned building. He would not play hide and seek with her. “Show yourself!”

“Oh, we are right here,” the woman called back and stepped from behind one of the big old machines. The girl, Heather, stood next to her, a curved blade at her throat. She couldn’t be more than eight. And she was scared to death.

The woman wasn’t stupid, she held the curved knife in a way that made sure that if she was shot, the girl would be at least badly injured by the slightest movement of her hand, if not outright killed.

“I’m here, you can let her go.” Mick said. His top priority was to get Heather out of here. Then he could deal with the fruit basket of a woman.

“Nothing would make me happier, but the moment I let her go you will try to stop me, and we can’t let that happen, can we?” the woman asked with a deranged smile and raised her free hand, holding a gun, aimed at Mick.

Mick raised his hands slowly to show that he was unarmed. “All this just to shoot me? You could have had that easier.” He pointed out, he needed to stall her. His team would have noticed his disappearance by now and located the CPS position of his cell. At least he hoped that they were on their way. All he had to do was to keep them all alive until they arrived. Should be a cake walk.

“You don’t understand.” The woman hissed.

“Then explain it to me,” Mick replied. He somehow needed to get the girl out of here. Keeping her talking was the only option he had right now.

And she jumped at the opportunity to tell him why she did all this, they so often did. They all needed someone to appreciate their work.

“There are people, like you, they are dangerous. And I have to stop them before they commit unspeakably crimes. I take no pleasure from your death, but it is necessary for the greater good.” She explained in such a calm voice, as if she gave him the time of day. “I’m…” She stopped midsentence and looked around as if she had heard something, but Mick hadn’t heard anything aside from her ramblings.

“NO!” she shouted into the dark corners of the production hall. “You won’t stop me! No one can!” her gaze went from one side to the other, searching.

“Sure about that, are you, Cassandra?” A man asked as he stepped out from behind one of the big machines. He was Mick’s age, brown hair, prominent nose, with calm and deadly eyes. He had a gun and it was aimed at the woman, Cassandra apparently. There was nothing unsure about him. All this Mick observed in only the few moments since the man had made his presence known.

“You!” Cassandra hissed fuming.

“Me,” the man replied matter-of-fact. “Did you think they would send your precious knight in shining armor? Let the girl go, Cassandra, and I’ll get the help you so obviously need.”

“I don’t need your help, Adam! I do what I should have done a long time ago.” Cassandra stated suddenly a lot calmer. “You know how dangerous they can be.”

Adam snorted. “Prevent them becoming like Kantos? Cassandra, they don’t even know. You killed all these people for nothing.”

“He already uses it,” Cassandra pointed at Mick, who had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. “It’s only a matter of time before he realizes what he can really do.”

As Cassandra’s attention was on Adam, Mick noticed a slight movement behind her. In the next moment a young woman came out of the darkness. She was younger than Mick, long dark brown hair in a pony trail, gun holstered at her hip. Mick didn’t react to her appearance, not giving her away. She nodded gratefully and edged closer to Cassandra and Heather, not making a sound.

An in the next second she had grabbed Cassandra’s hand in a nerve pinch and the knife fell from her numb fingers. Heather, bless her, didn’t hesitate and ran away from them. Mick grabbed the girl and pushed her behind one of the machines were she would be safe for the moment.

Cassandra screeched like a banshee and shook the other woman off, shooting at her, but missing.

“It’s over, Cassandra,” Adam calmly said, he still had his gun trained at her. Mick and the other woman had drawn their own weapons but no one fired, yet. There was  still a chance to end this peacefully.

“No, it’s not. You can’t kill me, Duncan would never forgive you, he would avenge me.” Cassandra hissed.

“After you killed over a dozen children?” the other woman asked. “I don’t think so. He’d hunt you down himself, after all, to him everything is black and white, good and bad. And killing innocent children is very, very bad.”

“They needed to die, Therese. You know what they were, what he is.” Again she indicated Mick. He was kind of getting tired of it.

“His friends won’t allow that, Cassandra, neither will we.” Adam stated.

“His friends aren’t here,” Cassandra said.

“Yes, we are,” Sam disagreed and stepped forward. The rest of the team followed. They had the others surrounded. “You are all going to put your weapons down. This is over.” He ordered.

Adam and Therese nodded and put their guns down on the ground and stepped back, hands raised to show that they surrendered. They evens stepped back in a way that they weren’t obstructing the agents line of fire on Cassandra.

Only Cassandra kept her weapon aimed at them, unsure what to do with so many adversaries at once.

“It has to be done,” She reassured herself in a loud whisper and determination filled her face. “I’m sorry,” she said and pulled the trigger.

At the same moment another shot rang out. Cassandra staggered back and her shot went wide. Surprised Cassandra looked down, there was a growing blood stain on her blouse. The gun fell from her hand and she looked up, an expression of betrayal on her face, then she collapsed.

Beth darted forward and grabbed the gun, while Prophet knelt down next to Cassandra, checking for a pulse.

“She’s dead, Coop,” he said.

Sam nodded. He hated shooting people, but she would have killed Mick if he hadn’t done in just now.

Mick holstered his gun and turned around to Heather. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

Heather nodded wordlessly and buried herself in his arms. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” He picked her up and looked to Sam.

His boss nodded. “Gina, go with him and call forensics and an ambulance. And you two are staying here until you explained all of this.” He told Adam and Therese, who shrugged their shoulders as if they didn’t care one way or another.

 

Once the police arrived at the abandoned facility the usual organized chaos started. ME and CSU got down to work while the uniformed officers roped of the area with yellow crime scene tape. Heather was taken to the hospital as a safety-measure, her parents would meet her there.

Sam and his team talked to the police while Adam and Therese were waiting in a corner, away from their cars, so as not to tempt them to disappear. The two were calm, if maybe a bit impatient. They didn’t seem to understand the fuzz that was being made about the whole thing.

When they were done, the team went over to them, effectively surrounding them, but trying to appear not to do so, or threatening.

“Alright, who are you two and what is your part in this?” Sam wanted to know. He would have preferred to question them separately, but something told him they already had their stories straight.

“My name is Adam Kershaw, this is my colleague Therese Joyner,” Adam introduced them with their full names. “We have been hired by Cassandra’s family to bring her back home where she could get help.”

“What kind of help?” Beth asked.

“Professional,” Therese answered with a slight French accent. “Cassandra has suffered from a psychic break a while back, which led her to kill a lot of people. The difficulty was that to us her victim selection was completely random, it only seemed to make sense to her and we were always at least a step behind her. Until you survived.” She said pointing to Mick. “After that it was a simple matter of following you until Cassandra showed up.”

“How many are a lot of people?” Prophet asked. Neither of them like the sound of that.

“It may be better if we show you,” Adam replied. “We have everything at our place, if you want to come and look.”

“Oh, lead the way.” Beth said.

“By the way, can you release Cassandra’s body without an autopsy? Her family is very religious.” Therese asked with a polite smile.

“We’ll see about that,” Sam hedged. An autopsy was not strictly necessary, the cause of death was rather obvious, but the ME had to have at least do a look-over. “Prophet and Beth will go with you two, we followe you in our car. And don’t try anything stupid.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Adam assured them with a smile. Sam didn’t find it reassuring.

 

“Whatever you do it must pay really well.” Beth commented when she saw the house Adam and Therese had used as their base of operation.

“Not quite. My grandparents left it to me. I use it whenever I’m in town.” Therese explained quickly and parked the car. Adam and Prophet were directly behind them. The rest of the team were not even a minute behind.

“Are you in town often?” Beth wanted to know curiously. She needed to learn as much about her as possible, that was her job.

“Not really, I’m in France most of the time.” Therese replied and got out of the car. Beth followed. The others got out of their cars and joined them at the front door.

Therese led them inside and through the living room into the dining room that had been converted in to a working room. There were dozens of pictures on the walls with writing underneath, names and dates.

“Please don’t tell me that these are all victims of her.” Beth said and stepped closer to one wall.

“Those we know of,” Adam confirmed. “Forty-two in all, most of them in Europe.”

“Do the authorities know?” Mick wanted to know. If not he would call his friend Catherine at Interpol.

“Cassandra’s family said they had informed the police, but whether that is true or not, I don’t know.” Therese replied. “We only are…were supposed to bring her home, before the police got her. Guess we failed quite spectacularly.”

“Why these people? Why me?” Mick asked. They were all shocked by the death toll they saw here.

Adam and Therese exchanged a look before Therese answered. For them both. “We can’t be sure, this is all speculation, but we know she used to have a boyfriend by the name of Roland Kantos, they were both into the whole spiritual, supernatural, X-files thing. Kantos hurt Cassandra, betrayed her. They both believed that they had certain powers and we think, and we have no proof for it, that Cassandra thought that these people, and you, Agent Rawson, have these powers too and she wanted to prevent them from hurting her like Kantos did.”

That earned her very skeptical looks. She shrugged. “That’s our theory, at least.”

“Okay, I’m pretty sure I don’t have the shining, so how did she pick me?” Mick asked.

“We don’t know,” Adam replied. “Wrong time, wrong place, maybe she picked you out of the telephone book?”

“I’m not listed.” Mick pointed out.

“Then maybe she saw you buy the wrong kind of coffee. Your guess is as good as ours.” Adam said. “It’s not like we can ask her, can we?”

“Whatever the reason, we will need all your files and data, we have to investigate this on our own and inform the families.” Sam stated. “You are sure she was acting alone? What about this Kantos?”

“Dead, as far as we know, and we found no indication that anyone was helping her. Frankly I don’t think she would have been able to interact with others in a rational way.” Therese replied.

“Well, she sure wasn’t making a lot of sense to me.” Mick said, he was reading the names under the photos.

“Do you recognize any of these people?” Gina asked, nodding at the pictures.

Mick shook his head. “No, never seen them before. And I somehow don’t think the director is going to be happy with us for bringing him all this work.”

Beth scoffed. “It’s not like he has to inform the families. He only has to do the press conference.”

“They can be bad enough,” Prophet pointed out. “Do you have these on a computer or are we doing this the old fashioned way?”

“I’ll put it on a data stick for you.” Therese said and sat down at her laptop that stood on the big table. “By the way, when can we get our guns back? They’re quite legal, I can assure you.”

“When we have checked them out.” Gina replied. “And have your statements.”

“Didn’t we just give them?” Adam wanted to know.

“In writing, you haven’t. And we make sure you get your weapons back as soon as possible.” Sam spoke up. Like Mick he had studied the pictures. “If you come in to Quantico tomorrow, we can sort out everything.” He gave Adam his card. “Around nine, would be appreciated.”

“We’ll be there.” Adam assured them.

 

“That went well.” Methos commented. He and Tyrael watched the FBI agents drive away.

“Too well. We are not out of the woods yet, not with them. They are suspicious of us.” Tyrael said. She turned around and started to clear the walls. They didn’t need the pictures anymore and the agents had everything on data stick. And she had made sure that there was nothing pointing to Immortals or Watchers.

“With good reason. We didn’t exactly tell them the truth.” Methos smiled and joined to help her. “And what about young Rawson? Does he have the Gift?”

Tyrael nodded. “Yes, he does, and more, he bears watching. What about Cassandra?”

“She’ll be dead for another few hours, Agent Cooper is a good shot. And the Watchers have a man in the morgue, he will make sure she stays dead.” Methos explained. “I had a little chat with them before turning in yesterday.”

“That leaves the question what to do with her. Lock her up? Take her head?” Tyrael sighed. Neither was a big fan of Cassandra, but still, her madness was not her fault. “I’ll do it if you want.”

“No, I think it’s better if I do it. I started it, didn’t I?” Methos asked tiredly.

“If not you, then someone else. Her life was hard, but so were ours. She made her decisions, no matter the reason behind it.”

Methos nodded. “You’re right. Let’s see if we can get her to Sean’s place first, if that doesn’t work, we can flip a coin.”

 

It took over two hours for the FBI to take their official statements and give their guns back.

“And how did your director take the news?” Methos asked Agent cooper when he handed the weapons over.

“He wasn’t happy about your involvement or Mick’s little stunt but we did stop a dangerous serial killer. So, we are off the hook, this time.” Cooper told him. “What will you do now?”

“Our job is to take Cassandra home, and that’s what we’ll do.” Adam shrugged.

“I was wondering, did Interpol know about her?” Tyrael asked. “Did her family inform them?” She knew that the Watchers had sent someone posing as her _family_ to raise the alarm, but she still wanted to know if Interpol had taken them seriously.

“They did,” Cooper nodded. “Our office is sending them all the information we have on the victims. What I don’t understand is why the sword? We found it among her belongings in the factory. We also found numerous DNA samples on it, they are being analyzed now. But it is an unusual choice of weapon, especially for a woman.”

Tyrael shrugged. “I’m sure to her it made perfect sense.”

 

When Kershaw and Joyner had left Beth and Mick were already awaiting them. They were in their car parked at the corner, ready to follow them.

“Now, let’s see what they are up to.” Beth muttered and started to follow the other car. Prophet was waiting in the garage with Gina, as soon as Sam joined them they would follow too.

As it turned out they headed straight to the morgue to claim the body.

Joyner then drove the car with the body with Kershaw following her.

“That’s not the way to the airport.” Mick pointed out five minutes later. In fact they were driving in the opposite direction.

“Maybe they’re taking the scenic route.” Beth suggested doubtfully.

“Sure they are.”

 

Tyrael drove Cassandra’s body to a warehouse that the Watchers owned through a few shell companies. No one would come here. They would put Cassandra in a secure coffin box and have her shipped to France. And if not, well, it wasn’t used for much, a little bit of damage wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

Tyrael wasn’t looking forward to what she would most likely have to do. She doubted that Cassandra would agree to be locked up. She had taken her fair of heads in her life, it had been unavoidable. But she had never enjoyed it. Yes, the Quickening was painful and orgasmic at the same time, but she had never grown addicted to it like some others had.

Tyrael parked the car outside the warehouse. She wasn’t in the mood to explain to the funeral home she had borrowed the car from, why it had spontaneously combusted when the Quickening hit.

As she got out Adam drove up to her and parked next to the other car. He excited and took three swords out of the back. His, Tyrael and Cassandra’s, not the machete, but the one she used for her own kind. They would have to be packed up too, or they wouldn’t be allowed onto the plane.

While Methos carried the blades inside, Tyrael opened the back of her car and opened the wooden box which contained the body. She pulled the dagger from Cassandra’s heart and lifted her out and over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Tyrael never had any problems carrying her own weight and more, all one needed was the right training and an old Quickening. With quick and certain steps she carried the body inside.

 

Throwing Cassandra unceremoniously to the ground Tyrael took her sword from Methos and stepped back a few steps. The Old Man held the other two. They waited for Cassandra to revive, best to get this out of the way, no reason to drag her all the way back over the Atlantic if they had to kill her then.

“You’re going to stay here and keep an eye on the boy, aren’t you?” Methos asked conversationally.

Tyrael shrugged. “Someone has to.”

“I somehow doubt he would take being called a boy very well.” Methos smiled.

There was a sudden chocking gasp and Cassandra woke up. She looked around herself frantically. When she spied them she scrambled to her feet, facing the other two Immortals.

“You two teaming up now?” she asked. “Not very sporting.”

“Look who’s talking.” Tyrael replied. “At least we give you a choice. Come with us peacefully or lose your head, right here and now.”

Cassandra scoffed. “So you can lock me up in a little padded cell? I’m not insane, for the first time in my life I see everything so clearly. And there is so much work left to do.”

“No, it’s finished. You made your decision, now you have to make another one. Come with us peacefully or die.” Tyrael stepped forward, her sword still at her side.

Cassandra smiled at them. “Still letting others fight your fights for you, Methos?”

“Don’t put your moves at my feet.” Methos replied calmly.

Cassandra sneered at him and turned to Tyrael. “You aren’t strong enough for me, little girl.”

The other woman merely raised an eyebrow at that statement. They had run into each other only a couple of times in the past three hundred years, but Cassandra had never realized that Tyrael was older than anyone except Methos. Tyrael went to great pains to come across as young, she liked others to underestimate her.

Methos stepped back while the two women eyed each other. That Cassandra didn’t have a sword didn’t seem to bother her.

“You’re tired, so tired.” Cassandra said to Tyrael in her Voice.

Tyrael smiled at her. “You might try that on someone it actually works on.”

Looking shocked and surprised Cassandra staggered back. “Who are you?”

“No one,” Tyrael replied and approached her. Cassandra tried to run away but Tyrael was on her in a moment. And a second later her head rolled free.

The white mist rose from Cassandra’s corpse and Tyrael readied herself to receive the Quickening. When the lightning started she heard several footsteps closer and Methos calling something, but she couldn’t do anything. All she knew was the unbearable pain of the Quickening.

 

“I can see the cars, but no sign of our friends.” Mick reported to Sam and the others. The cars had been standing there since he and Beth had gotten there. They couldn’t see any kind of movement, but they couldn’t see into the warehouse either.

“Okay, stay with the cars, we’ll be there in a minute.” Sam ordered.

“Will do.” Mick replied. There was something wrong with the whole thing, the entire team new it. It was just all too neat in the end.

Absentmindedly Mick rubbed his hurt arm. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t be allowed in the field with such an injury, but Sam hadn’t reported it yet, and he would not sit back and do nothing, this was personal. He wanted to know, needed to know, why he had been targeted.

“You think they plan to do something kinky with the body?” Beth asked.

Mick shook his head. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t make sense to come here. Maybe they want to check the body out, see if something is wrong or off or missing?” he didn’t sound like he believed any of what he had just suggested.

Before Beth could answer the other SUV pulled up next to them and they all got out of the cars.

“No moment yet?” Prophet wanted to know. They all put their Kevlar vests on, better safe than sorry.

“No, either they just sit inside drinking coffee or they are up to something I don’t even want to think about.” Beth reported.

“Okay, let’s get closer, but carefully. No need to spook them if they are not doing anything illegal.” Sam instructed.

The others nodded and followed their boss closer to the warehouse. Their guns still in their holsters, but their hands never far from them.

As they drew nearer to the open front door they could hear three people arguing, two of them female. The team exchanged confused looks and drew their weapons, better safe than sorry, right?

On a silent count of three they entered the warehouse and stopped dead. The sight before them was not what they had expected at all. Joyner stood over Cassandra’s body, while Kershaw stood nearby calmly holding two swords.

“What the hell?” Mick muttered. Cassandra’s head was missing, and there was a white mist rising form her corpse.

Kershaw turned around to them and rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Oh, crap,” he muttered, yet the turned back to his friend, as if the agents were irrelevant. They didn’t encounter this very often. “You guys might to take a step back right about now.” He told them over his shoulder and stepped back himself.

The mist descended onto Joyner and a moment lightning started to hit her. And it came from Cassandra’s body.

“Fucking hell,” Prophet breathed.

And then all hell broke loose. Lightning struck the structure around them, destroying the windows and the lights. They hit the walls, the floor, but most of all they hit Joyner. The woman seemed to be in agony, but they couldn’t get close enough to help her, even if they had the faintest idea how. They had to take care of themselves lest they were hit by one of the lightning strokes.

After what seemed like an eternity but wasn’t in truth more than ten minutes it suddenly stopped. Joyner collapsed onto her knees, panting heavily, but her blade still clutched in her hand.

Kershaw still stood at his spot, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. In fact, the guy had the nerve to smile at them when they got out from behind their corner.

“Don’t move.” Sam ordered Kershaw. Joyner was in no condition to do much anyway, being struck by lightning repeatedly could do that to do.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Agent.” Kershaw replied, that smile still on his face.

“Okay, you two have a lot of explaining to do.” Beth said. “Oh, and you’re under arrest.”

“For what?” Joyner asked and struggled back to her feet. She looked beat, but not like shwas about to keel over. “Agent Cooper killed Cassandra, isn’t that what the official report says?”

“And yet you just cut her head off.” Prophet stated.

“Yes, I did, and she had it coming.” Joyner replied. “Now, if you don’t mind, we have to get her ready for shipment.”

Gina stepped into her way, pushing her gun into her face. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Joyner regarded the gun bored. “You think that is going to stop me? What reason would you have to shoot me?”

“Gina, it’s okay,” Coop said from behind her. “We are not here to kill anyone, but we need an explanation, at least for that lightning, and we need it now.”

Joyner looked at Kershaw and then shrugged. “Fine, but first we put her back into her box. We really do have to send her to her family.”

Coop pondered that for a moment. “Alright, but one wrong move, and you’ll regret it.” He holstered his gun and after a couple of seconds his team followed.

 

It didn’t take long to pack Cassandra’s remains back into her coffin. Methos closed the trunk of the car and went to the driver’s door to get in.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Simms asked and stepped in her way.

“Well, we do have a spot reserved for Cassandra on a plane, it would be a shame were she to miss it.” Methos replied.

“I’m sure she can catch a later one,” Simms said. “It’s not like she’s in a hurry anymore, is she?”

“Zip it up and put the rulers away, boys.” Tyrael stepped next to Methos. “I said I would explain this to you and I will, Adam’s presence is not necessary for it. He will arrange Cassandra’s funeral and inform her family and friends about her unfortunate end.”

“We can’t just let him go.” LaSalle pointed out.

“Why not?” Tyrael asked. “I cut her head off, not him. And you can’t arrest me without answering questions you have no answers for. My lawyer would have me out within the hour.”

“Thought that through, didn’t you?” Rawson asked.

“Always,” Tyrael replied with a quick smile.

“It’s alright. Prophet let him go,” Sam ordered. “She’s right we can’t hold them. I shot Cassandra after all.”

“Sam!” Griffith exclaimed.

“It’s done. There is no proof otherwise. Mishandling a corpse is a felony, but no jury will convict them. Not after what Cassandra has done. But I want that explanation.” He said and his tone broke no argument.

Tyrael nodded in agreement. She didn’t give her word lightly and she kept it whenever she could. And it was better they knew some things before they tried to find out for themselves.

Reluctantly, Simms stepped away, but not turning his back on Methos or Tyrael. Smart boy.

Methos opened the car door and got in. “See you in a while.” He said to Tyrael and drove off.

“Now, how about we take this back to my place? I’m sure you remember the way.” Tyrael said to the feds and went over to the other car.

“I’ll drive with you.” Sam told her. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Tyrael smiled at him, still in her none-threatening personality. “I do so love good company, Agent Cooper. But I’ll drive.”

 

They were back at the house again. The FBI agents looked expectantly at Tyrael. They were in the kitchen, the best place for such conversations, she found.

“What Adam and I told you about Cassandra were all true, but for one fact: her family did not hire us to stop her and bring her back home. We found out what she was doing, and we knew we had to stop her one way or another. But as you have seen that was not the most easy task to accomplish.” Tyrael started to explain. “She had to be stopped not only because of the murderers but also because it was risking exposure of a certain genetic anomaly some of us have.”

“Genetic anomaly?” Griffith asked. “What genetic anomaly?”

Tyrael smiled. “Just something that makes us a bit different and we really don’t want to end up as lab rats.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Simms asked incredulous.

“No, I’m not. I don’t care whether you believe me or not. This is the truth and if you don’t like it, then that is too bad, but I unfortunately have none other to offer.” Tyrael told them without any humor in her voice.

 

Leaning against his car Methos stood across the street of Les Blues Bar. It was a fine day, sunny, if a bit windy. The old Immortal wasn’t looking forward to the conversation he was about to have with MacLeod. That was why he had insisted that Cassandra’s Watcher came along with him. She would back him up and Joe could check it out with HQ. It wouldn’t make the whole thing easier or anything, but at least the Highlander wouldn’t be able to discuss the proof and blame it all on Methos. Not that he wouldn’t try, though.

A car parked behind his and a forty-something woman got out. Brenda Ross, Cassandra’s last Watcher. It had been her who had called it in in the first place. She looked apprehensive at being in direct contact with Immortals. She knew who Methos really was, but Tyrael was an unknown, to her and the Watchers and Methos would make sure that it stayed that way.

“Are we going to simply stand here?” She eventually asked.

“No, but MacLeod isn’t here yet, and I don’t want to tell everything twice.” He explained.

“Right,” Ross leaned against the car too. “He is going to be pissed.” It wasn’t a question.

“That is a given. And here he comes.” Methos said as he felt the Buzz of another Immortal and in the next second Mac’s car came around the corner.

They waited until MacLeod parked his car and got out before they crossed the street and joined him.

“Hi, Adam,” Mac greeted him. “Who’s your friend?”

“Let’s make the introduction inside, Highlander. There is something we have to tell you and Joe.” Methos said shortly and continued to the front door, the others had no choice but to follow him. And always being the gentleman MacLeod held the door open for Ross. She gave him a quick smile and then hurried to catch up with Methos who was already at the bar.

“Adam, good to see you,” Joe greeted him with a smile. “We were getting all antsy when you disappeared on us like that.”

Methos nodded. “Yeah, about that. There’s something we have to tell the two of you.”

“We?” Joe asked confused. “And then he saw Ross. “Brenda, what are you doing here? Is Cassandra in town?”

Brenda gave Methos a quick look. “More or less.” She replied and took a file folder out of her bag. Everything the Watchers, Methos and Tyrael had gathered on Cassandra’s activities.

“What’s that?” MacLeod asked as he joined the others at the bar.

“You better read this yourself.” Methos said.

 

“I don’t believe this? I do _not_ believe this!” MacLeod raged. He started pacing the length of the bar. He and Joe had just finished going through the file Methos and Ross had brought along.

“What exactly do you not believe, MacLeod? That Cassandra would do such a thing or that you were kept out of the loop?” Methos asked, slouching on his barstool like he had no worry in the world.

“I’m sure she had her reasons for doing this,” MacLeod insisted.

“Wasting a dozen kids? Dozens of men and women?” Methos wanted to know. “Oh, I really have to hear that one.”

“Cassandra does not run around killing people without reason. It’s not her style.” MacLeod said, trying to get a hold on his temper.

“I’m sorry, Mac, but I think you are clutching at straws.” Joe cut in. “It sure looks like she’s gone off the deep end, man. I’m sorry.”

“Did you kill her?” MacLeod asked Methos, ignoring Joe.

“No,” Methos replied and when he saw that the Scot didn’t believe him, he continued. “Ask Brenda here, she was there.”

Ross had tried to become invisible after handing the file to Joe, she was not really comfortable with talking to Immortals, especially high-profile ones like MacLeod. Methos was another matter, he had been a Watcher for ten years. To her that somehow didn’t make it so bad.

“It’s true, he didn’t take her head. His friend did, but I don’t know her and couldn’t find her in the Chronicles.” Ross said in a rush, blushing. The Tribunal had been less than pleased with that little fact, that there was an unknown Immortal, probably very, very old, but Methos had refused to tell them anything about her.

“Yeah, good luck with that. She’s not overly fond of your guys.” Methos said with a smirk.

“Yes, I figured that out for myself.” Ross replied. “We just start one now and go from there.”

“Where is this woman now?” MacLeod wanted to know.

“Why? So you can challenge her?” Methos asked, all serous now. He wasn’t worried about Tyrael, she was a big girl, but she wouldn’t be very patient with MacLeod. She hated people like him, who thought that they could judge everyone. Methos had learned to just ignore it for the most part, but then he liked the Scottish kid.

“No…I…I just want to talk to her.” MacLeod assured his old friend.

Methos shrugged, MacLeod was old enough o make his own decisions and mistakes. “She’s in DC, keeping an eye on the feds that witness the Quickening.”

“What?” Joe nearly shouted. “Why didn’t any of you stop them?”

“Relax, Joe. They’ll keep their mouths shut, and if not, my friend will take care of them. Besides, they have no proof, so who are they going to tell?” Methos rolled his eyes at the mortal. “She knows what she’s doing.”

“Alright, what’s her name?” Mac wanted to know.

“Therese Joyner, at the moment. And MacLeod, don’t piss her off, if you get on her nerves she’ll neuter you and I have it on good authority that growing those body parts back hurts like hell.” Methos told him.

MacLeod gave him an annoyed look. Methos raised his hands. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

End

 


End file.
